


Let Me Rest

by Yatzstar



Series: The Mandalorian and His Child [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Speculation for Episode 8, spoilers for episode 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:27:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21880975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yatzstar/pseuds/Yatzstar
Summary: How I would like Episode 8 to turn out.Spoilers for Episode 7!
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Series: The Mandalorian and His Child [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1565002
Comments: 17
Kudos: 814





	Let Me Rest

The moment his arms wrapped around the Child, the rage that had driven the Mandalorian for the past several hours stilled. The red that clouded his vision diminished, and so did the blood roaring in his ears as he looked down at the tiny green face, blessedly whole and alive.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, both to the Child and to himself. “It’s okay.”

As cleansing relief washed over him, he realized the battle was a blur of gunfire and horror in his mind. Consumed with the panic of the Child being taken, the trail of bodies in his wake was the testament to what he had done.

“You’re hurt,” he growled, noticing the dark bruise that marred the left side of the Child’s delicate features. Anger boiled up in him afresh, but this time it had no outlet. Everyone on the ship was either dead or had fled from his wrath. The Imp who had started it all, who had wanted the Child, had escaped with his life by the skin of his teeth much to the Mandalorian’s frustration. Something told him that was not the last he would see of the man, and the next time he would put a bullet through his skull.

The Child curled into him, clinging to his chestplate with a surprisingly strong grip. Something heavy and uncomfortable welled in the Mandalorian’s chest at the sight, a lump forming in his throat.

“We’re getting out of here,” he said, unable to keep the tremor from his voice. He took a moment to regain his composure before raising the communicator. “Cara, do you read me?”

After a moment, her voice crackled through. “What’s your status, Mando?”

“I have the kid. He’s safe.”

“The Imp?”

“He escaped, barely.”

He heard her mutter a curse under her breath. “Are you going to pursue him?”

“No. I have the kid and I’m not risking leaving him again. Have the ship ready.”

He strode through the ship quickly, one hand holding the Child and one hand holding his blaster. He was confident everyone he had come in contact with was dead, but that did not stop the paranoia of lurking stragglers from overtaking him.

He did not relax an inch until he strode off the ship and onto his own. Cara looked around as he walked into the cockpit, practically collapsing into the spare chair.

“Get us out of here,” he growled.

Cara did as he bid wordlessly.

Only when the gray sky turned to the black void of space did the Mandalorian let his muscles relax. The Child seemed to relax as well, starting to make his usual little noises.

“Are you hurt?” Cara asked once the ship was safely away from Nevarro.

“Not badly.”

She snorted and stood up. “I’m going to scan you anyway.”

He waved away her hands. “Check the kid first.” He saw her hesitate and eye the Child dubiously, so he added, “He thought you were trying to hurt me. It was a misunderstanding.”

The Child smiled winningly at her despite his injuries, and she scowled back, but found herself leaning in to scan him. “This is extortion.”

The scan only took a few seconds, and Cara straightened to look at the readings. “He has a few bruises, but its nothing serious. Rest will probably do the healing.”

The Mandalorian sighed softly in relief, a sound Cara barely caught.

“Now will you let me scan you?” she asked.

“Yes.”

She scanned him, raising an eyebrow at the results. “Nothing terrible, surprisingly. Just some bruises and scratches that a bacta patch will fix.”

The Mandalorian nodded and stood, every muscle in his body screaming with fatigue at the action. Now that the battle-frenzy had subsided, he was starting to realize just how tired he was.

Cara stuck out her arm, barring his path from the pilot seat. “Oh no you don’t.”

His helmet turned towards her, and she didn’t have to see his face to know he was glaring at her.

“You go take care of yourself and the kid,” she explained. “You need to rest. I’ll take care of the piloting for a while.”

“But—”

“You think I’m gonna knife you in your sleep?”

“No, but—”

“Then go rest.” She shoved him gently towards the door. “I’ve got this.”

He hesitated a moment longer, then the Child chirped. He looked down at the kid in his arms, then looked back at her and nodded slightly. “Thank you,” he muttered, and swept out of the room.

Cara smirked and sat down in the pilot’s seat again. The Child had him wrapped around his tiny green claws, without a doubt.

The Child shied away from the Mandalorian’s hand as he attempted to apply the slimy bacta to the bruises.

“Sit still,” he said, gently holding the Child’s head with one hand and applying the bacta with the other.

The Child squinted as the substance touched his skin, making a small noise of distaste. Eventually the Mandalorian let him go, satisfied that it would take care of the bruises.

“We’ve been through a lot, haven’t we?” he murmured, starting to de-armor to take care of his own wounds.

The Child smiled then, seeming to enjoy the sound of his voice. The Mandalorian felt that same lump forming in his throat again. He had come so close to losing the Child so many times, but this had been by far the worst. The last time he had ever felt so panicked was when his parents were killed.

“We’re safe now,” he told the kid. “Nobody will come after us.”

The Child toddled over to him and climbed into his lap, curling up contentedly, the bacta forgotten. The Mandalorian placed a gentle hand on the kid’s back, his small breaths a reassurance that he was there and alive.

The Mandalorian finished tending to his own wounds, by that time the Child was sound asleep. Looking at the Child reminded him of just how tired he was, and a new wave of exhaustion surged through his body, causing him to sag.

With tremendous effort, he lifted the kid gently and scooted back further onto the cot, laying down and resting the Child beside him. He kept a hand on the kid’s back and stared at him, reluctant to ever let him out of his sight again, but sleep overtook him quickly, and he drifted off as well.

Cara piloted the ship for a couple of hours before her stomach told her it was time to eat. She set the ship in autopilot and left the cockpit. Aware that both of the other inhabitants were likely asleep, she descended the ladder with care. She expected to find the Child asleep in his makeshift cradle and the Mandalorian asleep on his cot, but the sight that greeted her took her by surprise.

The Mandalorian lay on his cot, all armor except his helmet removed in a pile. This was what Cara expected, however she did not expect him to be holding the Child, who was dead to the world and cradled in his arms.

A slow smirk appeared on her face. The Mandalorian, the bounty hunter revered for his ruthlessness and efficiency, feared by many, was cuddling a child as if he were afraid it would disappear. She knew he had a soft spot for the kid, but she hadn’t known it went so deep

He was probably afraid it would disappear after everything that had happened, she realized, and shook her head. What she wouldn’t give for a holodisc right now to capture the precious moment, but she knew the Mandalorian would likely kill her if he found out, and he had a reputation to uphold.

So she remained content in her own secret knowledge. Later, the Mandalorian would catch her smiling at him and the Child, but when asked, she would shrug it off.

She cast one final look at the two, made strangely happy by their bond, and let them rest.


End file.
